Take Care
by Scintilla-Ish
Summary: Take care of yourself. You're not the only one who owns that body. Never forget that.


_Take care of yourself. Remember that you're not the only one who owns that body_.

She sobs in the corner of her bed, wetting the sheets with her too hot tears. It burns her eyes and scratched cheeks. It was bound to happen.

The woman, braids come undone and hair as mesy as her master's when not tied, curls further into herself as she hiccups. Breath coming in and out in short, hitched, huffs and she feels her chest constrict painfully and her lungs feel like exploding.

She remembers him, back straightened proudly and sharp, silver-blue eyes gazing into her, making her lose her ability to breath because it was too beautiful and it was an image that was never supposed to be tainted--...

But he was tainted all on his own, wasn't he? Blood on his hands and weapons, a beast for war, as she often heard other mafosi say.

She sat up suddenly and stared at the door for a moment, feeling the sudden rush of dizziness and blindness because of her fast movement. She quickly shook it off and stumbled to her feet, a stark contrast to her usually controlled and fluid motions.

Hair that reached her waist fell forward, still messy, and she dully thinks that her master would reprimand her for not taking care of herself. But she didn't need that right now. She was too busy mourning. She didn't need care at the moment.

She swayed towards the bathroom door connected to her room. Turning on the light, she hissed quietly at the burn from her eyes. She had forgotten that she spent days in her room with no lights on.

She grasped the edges of the sink, and glanced to her reflection in the mirror, she winced. Pale skin, paler than usual, red scleras, a bleeding cheeks from nails breaking the skin, messy, dark hair, and her eyes-- her eyes were incredibly dull.

Not anything like what she wanted them to be.

She choked back a sob when an image stood with her reflection, she already cried more than enough for the day, no need to add more tears to the bucket.

The woman washed her face and ran a hand through her hair, grimacing at the sting she felt from her cheeks. She looked at her reflection again.

She looked a tad better...

But she had to look presentable. She was in no way presentable at the moment. If the others saw her like this they would never leave her alone, And alone is exactly what she needs to be.

She repeatedly washed her face until it was slightly red and the color had returned to her skin. She took care of the scratches on her cheeks as well.

Looking at her reflection now, she was presentable. Enough so that no one would question her state of being. Her brown eyes were still dull, but it could be dismissed by the thought of her still recovering from a mission.

And she HAD came from a mission. A mission that took away the one thing she lived for and no one knows. Not yet. Not yet...

The woman gripped her hair in both hands and took out a brush from the cupboard, she then proceeded to brush her hair, focusing on the way the brush ran through the dark locks. Somewhere along the process her thoughts took a dark turn though. She had to brush quicker to prevent herself from drowning, drowning in the waves of negativity.

She tied her hair up into her usual braids, it now reached her mid back, and she began to look more and more like what others thought she was supposed to look like. It was tiring, her fingers refused to cooperate with her, but she managed.

She walked out of the bathroom and dressed up in her usual attire. A long sleeved qipao and a skirt. This time her qipao was colored purple.

The same color he had.

She looked at herself once more in the mirror and deemed herself presentable, then she walked out of her room. It was terribly nerve-wracking to separate from her safe haven and she felt numb and empty, but if she didn't get out she would be forced to and the truth would come out. She didn't want to upset anyone.

Not now.

The woman walked through the halls, occasionally nodding in acknowledgement at several maids and servants scattered throughout the mansion. Damn was it tiring to keep up a facade.

She felt a hand on her shoulder and jumped, hand immediately positioned to strike the offender-- she paused and slowly dropped her stance.

His green eyes were boring into her in concern. "I-pin, what's wrong?" Not 'are you okay', because he always knew when she had something bothering her. I-pin shook her head, smiling at the man before her. "Nothing, I'm fine. I returned from a mission, remember?" His green eyes brightened a bit, looking her over, before frowning and dismissing his concern as paranoia.

He then grinned and tilted his head, making his curly locks bounce. "Is that so--?"

She didn't remember that much after. They talked. That was all. He kept sending her these looks but she paid them no mind.

The man patted her shoulder as he grinned lopsidedly, "See you around I-pin. Take care yeah?" Said woman went quiet at that, but she managed to gather herself before he took notice.

His smile seemed to tighten, or was it just her?

She nodded, smiling again. "Sure." He smiled back and walked away, waving lazily. She gazed at his back before her breath hitched, her eyes burned.

He looked exactly like him at that moment.

I-Pin pursed her lips and retreated back to her room.

She spent the night screaming and crying hopelessly.

 **x** **END x**

A/N: Heya! Maya here, and I am not sorry for the vagueness!

Hope you enjoyed this angsty oneshot!


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